


No Hope, No Fear

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Isle of Flightless Birds [11]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Canon Compliant, D/s AU, Gen, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: “I’m fucking tired of losing to the Pittsburgh fucking Penguins,” Nicklas states, staring at the closed door to the locker room.There are some things the coach should handle, and there are some things better suited for the team’s Dom.  This was the latter.Or, the 4/29 Players Only Meeting





	No Hope, No Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I think we knew this was coming.
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

Nicklas quietly closes the door as Trotz backs away, and stays facing the wood.

It’s mostly quiet behind him, just a couple murmurs, the rustling of gear and jerseys.  Everyone had mostly gotten out of their gear while he was talking to Trotz, and Nicklas had at least gotten his skates off before Trotz had tried to come in.

There are some things the coach should handle, and there are some things better suited for the team’s Dom.  This was the latter.

“I’m fucking tired of losing to the Pittsburgh fucking Penguins,” Nicklas states, still staring at the door.  As soon as the first word leaves his mouth, the room goes deathly silent.  He takes another second to stare at the plain wood, so when he finally faces his team again he’ll be able to keep his cool.

He turns.  Everyone’s eyes are on him.  Andre is already on the floor at Braden’s knee.  Tom is squeezed into the same stall as Chorney, TJ curled up on John’s lap.

“I’m tired of losing to teams that we can beat.  I’m tired of playing well for _20 minutes_ and then letting it fall apart.  I’m tired of losing leads, and letting other teams get leads on us, and having our _fucking goalie pulled_.”

Kevin dips his head.

Nicklas balls his hands into fists, almost shaking as he tries to hold himself back.  “I’m.  So.  Fucking tired.”

“We’re sorry,” Tom says quietly.  “We know we can play better, and we haven’t been.”

“Are you?” Nicklas shoots back.  “Are you sorry?”

There’s scattered nods throughout the room, but nobody speaks.

He turns to the first stall on his left – Lars – and says.  “Up.  Turn around.”

Lars knows what’s coming. He stands and turns to face the back of his stall, bracing his hands against the back wall of it.  Nicklas sweeps his gaze around the room.  “Everyone.”

He can hear the rest of the team moving, but he doesn’t bother watching them as they do.  He focuses back on Lars, who’s stock still, gaze trained on the back of his stall.

“One for every giveaway,” he tells the room at large.  “One for every penalty minute, every lost faceoff, every time you were on the ice for a goal.”  He turns back to Lars.  “Count.”  He winds up and spanks him once, twice, three times, four, five, Lars quietly counting each one.

“Good,” Nicklas says when he’s done, smoothing his hand over the spandex over Lars’s ass.

Dan is next.  Three quick hits, Dan counting them out in a rough voice, and the same soothing just after.

Everything goes smoothly through Nate, Dmitri, Paul, Matt, Justin, Phillipp.  Even though Brooks has his jaw clenched and tension filling his body, he still grits out the count for each spank that Nicklas delivers.  Kevin is choking down sobs as he counts out to nine; Marcus, after him, barely whispers through his eight.

When Nicklas gets to Evgeny, he’s still sitting in his stall, staring defiantly up at him.

“Get up.  Turn around,” Nicklas tells him again.  Evgeny sneers and doesn’t respond. “Get up,” Nicklas snaps, “and _turn around_.”

“So you get to dole out punishment, and no one’s going to come after you for your fuck ups?” Evgeny spits at him.

Nicklas straightens up.  “Did I ever say that?”

“What, you going to spank yourself?”

“Alex takes care of it,” Nicklas tells him through clenched teeth.  “He always has.”

“He going to do it here, like everyone else?” Evgeni asks, jutting out his chin.  “Or in private, where you don’t have to be embarrassed like the rest of us?”

Nicklas grabs Evgeny's shoulder tight and pulls him up, shoving him around until he’s forced to brace himself against the back of his stall or smash his face into it.

“Count,” Nicklas orders him, and spanks him.  He pauses after the first one, waiting for Evgeny to speak.  “This can go fast, or it can take all night.”

“One,” Evgeny spits.

Nicklas spanks him again, and Evgeny counts it almost immediately.

By the time they get to fourteen, the last one, Evgeny’s still counting every number clearly, but his head’s hanging, his shoulders slumped.

Nicklas smooths his hand down Evgeny's back.  “Good.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Evgeny mutters.  Nicklas huffs and moves on to the next.

Jay counts each of his in a strong voice, flashing Nicklas a tight smile when he pats his shoulder at the end.  TJ rocks back into each of his, gasping out a count, trembling as soon as Nicklas is done.  John’s next, and quiet, and Tom is…

Twelve, for his penalty minutes and the game misconduct.  It hurts, when Tom played well the rest of the game, but Nicklas doesn’t let it show on his face.  Everyone has to face the consequences of their actions, just like they had to play the last ten minutes of the game without Tom.

Nicklas nods at Taylor, and Taylor nods back.

Braden takes his with the same stoicism he takes every goal, every loss.  Andre’s next, tears already gathering at the corners of his eyes before the first hit.  Nicklas swats him twice, then pets the curve of his back.

“That’s it?” Andre chokes out.

“That’s it,” Nicklas confirms.

Alex is last.  He’s been waiting patiently the whole time, in perfect form, his feet planted on the floor and hands pressed to the back of his stall.  He doesn’t lead up to it.  He just spanks him, Alex counting them out clearly.  When he’s done, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of his neck, right below the edge of his collar.

Alex turns, then, and waits as Nicklas looks at the room, tells them, “You can sit now.”  He turns to his own stall, setting himself the same way everyone else was.  “Go until I tell you to stop,” He tells Alex.

Alex spanks him, not holding back.  “One,” Nicklas counts.  Alex spanks him again.  “Two,” Nicklas counts.  They keep going – three, four, five, six, seven.  He can hear some of the team shuffling, muttering, a few gasps when they keep going.  Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

“Stop,” Nicklas says finally, and Alex lets out a breath.

He turns to the rest of the team.  Andre’s watching him with wide eyes, Evgeny staring at him sullenly.

“We’re all better next time,” Nicklas tells them.  “If that happens again, this happens again.”

He looks every person in the eye, making sure they get it, they understand, and then nods.  “Dismissed."

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes


End file.
